This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at ODU chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.
Content warning: This story mentions gun violence.
“Counting or not counting gang violence,” were the last words uttered by Charlie Kirk right before he was fatally shot on Sept. 10, 2025.
Charlie Kirk was an American conservative political activist, author, and online personality, arguably known for his words of political violence. When he was shot, Kirk was speaking at Utah Valley University as part of his Turning Point USA Tour. Turning Point USA is a non-profit organization founded by Kirk, which “…guides citizens through development of knowledge, skills, values, and motivation, so they can meaningfully engage in their communities to restore traditional American values like patriotism, respect for life, liberty, family, and fiscal responsibility.”
Before his passing, Kirk had amassed a following of 7.1 million people between both of his YouTube accounts. Many people shared their grievances about Kirk’s death online, yet when hundreds of people die from gun violence every year, we see far less coverage. In the aftermath of the recent shooting, public debates have revealed more than just renewed conflicts over gun rights. Beneath these arguments lies something deeper: the way empathy is extended—or withheld—based on not violence itself, but on who the victim is. Kirk’s shooting does not only spark discourse about guns in America, but it also exposes the uncomfortable reality of selective empathy in our political climate.
On the same day of Kirk’s assassination, 407 miles away, another incident took place. A shooter entered Evergreen High School and shot two students. One victim passed away, the other is still in critical condition.
Incidents like these occur every day. So far in 2025, there have been 311 mass shootings and a total of 19,646 injuries related to firearms. While the United States is no stranger to gun violence, the human cost extends far beyond statistics. Families are shattered, neighborhoods are destabilized, and survivors often live with lasting trauma. It is generally recognized that events such as these are tragedies, yet the media sweeps many of these incidents under the rug. Too often it takes the death of a public figure to spark outrage, while the everyday loss of innocent lives is met with silence.
When Kirk was shot, the response was immediate and overwhelming. Politicians, news outlets, and even the president rushed to mourn his injury and condemn the violence. President Trump highlighted this event as a national tragedy. On the contrary, when everyday people—students in schools, friends in nightclubs, families in their homes, or shoppers in grocery stores—are killed in similar acts of gun violence, the response is often muted or nonexistent.
This selective empathy reflects a troubling double standard and poses the question: Are the lives of public figures inherently more valuable? It seems like they are treated as such, while the countless victims of the United States’ gun crisis are reduced to statistics. Such disparities not only diminish the dignity of those lost but also normalize violence in marginalized communities, where shootings rarely receive the same visibility or urgent calls for change.
A particularly disturbing example of this favoritism is made visible when looking at the response to the murder of Democratic Minnesota State Representative, Melissa Hortman. On June 14, 2025 Hortman, her husband, and their dog were all shot and killed in their Brooklyn Park home. When questioned about why President Trump had flags half mast for Kirk and not Hortman, Trump responded, “I’m not familiar. The who?” Clearly, the amount of empathy he extended for one person is different for another who suffered similar tragedy. Trump later on declared that if he were asked, he would have obliged. This instance even furthers the question of who earns our empathy because if being a public figure doesn’t grant you automatic right to basic respect, then what does?
It seems as though there are other factors involved as to who is granted access to the empathy club or not. Unfortunately, race, class, age, and sex can all play a role into how people respond to each other in any instance, let alone a tragedy. Media influence, and social narratives play a role in how we perceive each other. Political polarization further influences empathy, as people are more likely to care about victims or causes that align with their own ideological beliefs. Ultimately, empathy in the United States is not distributed equally, but filtered through a lens of identity, visibility, and perceived social worth.
